Trouble and Time

All signs point to smitten. All texts point to unrelenting thoughts of each other. I hadn’t smiled like that in years. And so I’m in trouble. Serious, mind consuming, heart twitterpating trouble.

The kind that throws you like a fishing line into the waters of fantasy future. Only to find that there are no tugs on the line, and that except for the constant reeling back in of the heart through the power of the mind’s fear, I might bob out there endlessly in those cool, silky, wondrous waters.

Days feel like weeks and urgency is in all our exchanges. Meanwhile fear, doubt, subterfuge infect my mind, and my heart holds no suspicion of the illness. Though the pulse is slowing and the spells of misery are quickening, my heart foolishly thinks it can overcome the sickness I’ve put into myself.

All the while he comes and goes and he is wiser for the slow glimpsing he does of my eyes. My eyes, which he tells me smile sometimes even if my mouth does not. My eyes, which tell him I’ve retreated even when my voice cannot. I betray myself in hundreds of ways and it means I am losing him and what we have. I hope that this dread and certainty is a falsehood in my head.

But when last week held seven days between us that felt like forever, we scrambled to make it two and five. This week holds five days between us and neither has said a word about connecting. I want longing measured in hours back. Not this endless reeling of days.

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